


Petulant Petals

by KlonoaDreams



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Fluff and Angst, For Want of a Nail, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Madame Red PROTECCS, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Self-Insert, she also attacc but mostly proteccs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-24 10:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19722049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KlonoaDreams/pseuds/KlonoaDreams
Summary: It all starts with a dream—a dream unlike any other. It's vivid, it's coherent, it's absolutely wonderful...until it isn't. That's when Roselle Phantomhive wakes up and finds that it was never a dream to begin with. SI OC





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> I have no fucking excuse for this fic. I was dragged, kicking and screaming into a series I haven’t touched in _years_ because an idea grabbed me and refused to let me go.
> 
> So here you have the fic that no one asked for, cuz I do what I want—even when I _don’t_ want to!
> 
> **Disclaimer for the whole story: I don’t own _Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler_ , nor will I ever own it.**
> 
> All I own is whatever comes out of this fic, which I hope catches your attention at the very least—by the way, **be wary of spoilers** , because your fair writer has caught up with the manga and is aware of a LOT of things going on…so yeah.

It all starts with a dream—a dream unlike any other.

It’s vivid, it’s coherent, it’s…absolutely _wonderful_.

It follows the life of one particular girl, since the day of her birth. She has everything she could ever want—family, toys, dresses…and happiness, of course. She is loved oh, so dearly, by her parents, her brothers, and the lady in red—she _especially_ loves the lady in red.

She is never alone throughout the passing years, during the good…and the bad…

_But…_

_But…_

_But, but, but, but, **but** …_

But one day—that all changes, when the bad turns into something far, **_far_** worse.

_Everything hurts._

_It hurts, it hurts, it hurts._

_It hurts so, **so** much…_

She clings desperately to the happy memories she has, so that she could stay strong for her brothers. They have only each other now, and she refuses to let them go so easily…

They lost everyone on a night that was supposed to be full of laughter and cheer. A night where that wonderful dream came to an end, twisting and turning into a suffocating nightmare.

_Wake up._

She wants to wake up.

_Wake up. Wake up._

But she can’t…

_Wake up, wake up, **wake up** …_

The nightmare refuses to release its hold on her as she reaches out for the brother that’s being taken from her. There is so much screaming…so much crying…

_So much pain…_

A sickening crack resonates in her skull from the impact her head has had on the cage door. Almost at once, her world starts to fade into darkness as the screams and cries grow even louder than before…

_Is it over…?_

She hopes it’s over…

_It has to be._

Her eyes flutter open, her vision slowly swimming back to her.

**_“It’s time to wake up.”_ **

She expects to wake up in her room—expects it to be summer. She expects _everything_ to be in place.

Instead, she finds that there is a young boy crying into her chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Almost instinctively, her hand goes to his head, fingers delicately stroking his hair. She murmurs soft words of comfort, though it’s mostly unintelligible. Talking is just so difficult…

Everything is such a haze. She can barely register the wall that her back is pressed up against. The floor that she sits on is covered in a red-colored liquid.

_This isn’t my room._

The metallic scent of blood permeates the air, filling her nostrils with its horrid stench. Her stomach churns and churns, vomit soon dribbling out from the corners of her mouth. She turns her head, the contents of her stomach spilling onto her shoulder instead of on the young boy who clings to her.

_Disgusting…_

Her mouth has such an acrid taste that makes her feel even sicker. Her head won’t stop spinning, and the little boy that clings to her won’t stop crying…

_Why is he crying?_

She wants to ask him that question, but her attention redirects itself on the silver ring that’s being held in front of her face. Blood drips all over it, covering the brilliant blue gem that it possesses. It should be a horrifying sight, and yet…

_Pretty…_

That’s all she can think as she watches a tiny, bloodied hand reach out and catch the ring after it’s dropped. She blinks slowly, vaguely registering the voices she hears in the background. There is movement she feels as the young boy finally releases her, distancing himself from her.

_Don’t…go…_

She wants to reach out to him as she watches him walk away. That’s when she notices how tiny her hands have gotten.

_Tiny hands…_

Tiny hands covered in blood and filth…

_So tiny…_

She stares at her hands, distracted by the differences she sees the longer she stares at them. So caught up in her thoughts, she doesn’t notice that she’s being lifted off the floor. She’s held like the child she physically is, even though she _knows_ that she has long since surpassed that developmental phase.

_Is this a dream?_

Time passes so easily as she’s caught up in her own thoughts. She barely even registers the handkerchief that wipes her mouth and shoulder, cleaning up the mess she’s made of herself. Someone is talking—is it the young boy?

_What a cute voice…_

A cool breeze ruffles her hair, sending a chill up her spine. She shudders, pressing her body closer to the warmth she feels from the person that carries her. The air smells so clean, so fresh…it’s nothing like the coppery scent of blood. She feels like she can actually relax, so she closes her eyes after getting a good look at the starry night sky.

_I’m free…_

She doesn’t know how long she stays that way, but when she opens her eyes again, the sky is growing brighter as dawn approaches. The scent of smoke and fire has filled the air. Her nose wrinkles in disgust, but she mostly ignores it. Little by little, her sense of awareness grows clearer.

There’s a slight tug on the tattered clothes that she wears. She looks down, her eyes widening slightly at the young boy that looks up at her with mismatched eyes.

_What happened to your eye?_

She stares questioningly at the eerie purple eye that looks at her. Something about it seems so… _familiar_.

_Why?_

“…your name…” Bit by bit, the haze in her mind clears as she makes out the words that young boy speaks. She hears someone else respond to him—a young man with a voice deeper than the boy’s. Slowly, her head turns, her gaze falling upon a mop of raven-colored hair.

“Sebastian…” she hears the boy speak again. “From now on, your name will be Sebastian.”

“Sebaaaassstiaannnnn,” she drawls out, catching herself by surprise.

_Is that my voice?_

It sounds so young, so…

_Childish._

Questions flood her head as her hand reaches out to pet the soft, black hair that she sees before her.

_Sebastian…_

Images of a borzoi with silky, black fur fill her head, reminding her of memories that she doesn’t recall ever experiencing herself.

“Woof, woof,” she says, further perplexed by her own actions. She hears laughter coming from the young boy that almost wants to make her laugh as well… _almost_.

“A dog, huh?” She freezes still at the sight of the young man’s face as he looks her in the eye. His red-colored eyes almost seem to stare into her soul, sending a shiver up her spine. He has such a handsome face, with skin as pale as white marble.

The mere thought of herself finding his face so handsome makes her sick to her stomach. She pushes her hands against him in an attempt to distance herself from him, like a cat that’s suddenly had enough. He refuses to release her, causing her to take more desperate measures as she tries to claw at his face.

A scream leaves her mouth when a gloved hand wraps itself around hers. “Now, now—ladies are supposed to act more refined than this.”

He forces a smile as he stares at her, though she knows better than to trust him as he tries his best to calm her. She bites down on his arm, expecting him to flinch at the very least. He doesn’t…instead, he remains calm, his smile never once wavering as he turned his attention to the young boy standing at his feet.

“Your sister is quite the tomboy,” he says, sounding somewhat amused. His brow twitches ever so briefly when he’s kicked repeatedly in the stomach.

_Let go, let go, let go!_

Vivid memories of a butler dressed in black flood her head as she tries to escape. She knows that those memories she has were of a purely fictional character. And yet, as she continues to struggle, she realizes that this is all too _real_ to ignore…

_Why, why, why, why?!_

Sobs slip past her lips, her body soon trembling violently in fear. She releases the young man’s arm, unable to hold back the wave of emotions bubbling within her. She feels fear, disgust, confusion, and rage at the realization that the dream she had been having wasn’t actually a dream.

_It was never a dream!_

It was her second chance.

_I died._

Cruel memories of a life she once had remind of how she had become a casualty of a deadly earthquake. She remembers her final moments all too vividly, of being crushed underneath the debris of her own home, crying over how unfair it had been for her life of twenty-four years to end like this.

_Why now?!_

She wonders why it has taken so long for her to access her old memories, screaming in frustration as she tries to push away the horrifying memories that suddenly plague her mind.

_It hurts, it hurts, it hurts…!_

She cries like the child she physically is, unable to come to terms with the new life that was suddenly hers.

“What did you do to her?!” she hears the boy yell. She goes still when a pair of tiny arms wrap around her body. Her first instinct is to push them away, but then she hears the boy say, in such a soft voice, “It’s okay, Roselle…”

_That’s…!_

Is that her name?

_No—it’s not!_

But the memories she has of her new life say otherwise.

_Then this boy…_

This boy is her younger brother…he’s one of them.

_Where’s the other boy?_

“I did warn you that she wouldn’t be the same as before.” She shudders underneath the hand that pats her head.

“Don’t touch her!” the boy snaps, his hand slapping away the offending appendage that had made her feel so uncomfortable.

“C-Ciel…?” she sounds so uncertain when she calls his name. The name comes to her so naturally, as though she’s said it many times.

_Because you have._

“Roselle?” Those mismatched eyes stare at her, looking so concerned, so…so…

_Scared…_

“Ciel…?” She wants to scream as the boy only confirms the worst of her worries—that fiction has indeed become reality. “Wh-Why…?”

_Why this?_

She didn’t ask for this.

_Why me?_

Why was she given a second chance, in a world that was once fictional to her? Where her younger brother was a boy named Ciel, who made a contract with a demon?

_Why, why, **why**?!_

Why had she been so oblivious to the life she left behind?!

_Why now?!_

It’s not fair…

_Not fair, not fair, not fair…_

“It’s…not fair…” she cries out, slowly coming to terms with the hand that she’s been dealt. There are some gaps in her memories that she can’t recall on command, but she knows something bad has happened—to both her and Ciel…to the other boy who’s missing from this scene. It’s all a haze—a haze that she hopes never clears.

_I don’t want…to remember._

It’s enough knowing of the life that she left behind… Gone is that college student who was studying so hard to graduate. And in their place, is Roselle Phantomhive, the older sister of the boy now known as Ciel Phantomhive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we have Roselle Phantomhive, older sister of Phantomhive twins. She’s like two years older than them and otherwise, grew up to be a normal girl…
> 
> Then shit hit the fan and her SI memories kicked in, thanks to a certain demon, so now the SI aspect of Roselle is alive and well, even if it does come at the cost of so much trauma.
> 
> Roselle is a lot different from most of my SI/OCs, because of how she went through the first twelve years of her life so innocent and oblivious to the life she left behind. Most of my SI/OCs are either shoved into a body, cold turkey, or born into it…
> 
> In the case of Roselle, it’s a plot point that I’ll eventually get into, but all I can say is that she can kiss her normality goodbye. :D
> 
> So that’s all I have for now. I literally took like a few days to type this chapter up, if you need an idea of just how far down the rabbit hole I am.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, please do feel free to leave comments, because I crave that validation and it DOES motivate me to keep updating!
> 
> So until next time!


	2. Red

With each passing day, Angelina Durless feels more and more hollow. She tries to distract herself with work, after a month of doing nothing but staying at home. She tries her best to ignore the memories she has of the little girl that would often visit her while she was at work. Tries her best to force a smile as she wishes her patients a safe journey home.

Tries her best to ignore how lonely she feels to go back home on her own, with only her servants around to keep her company. There isn’t anyone else she can visit, besides the other half of the family that her older sister had married into. She thinks about visiting the Midfords but stops when she recalls the children who used to play with their youngest child.

Just thinking about them reminds her of her sister, Rachel, and her husband, Vincent—both of whom were no longer alive. The two had perished in the fire that burned their mansion down. She knows not of what happened to their children, as their bodies were never found…

It’s assumed that they are dead, but sometimes…

Sometimes…

Sometimes, Angelina thinks that they aren’t. She wonders what they would be doing right about now, had they not gone missing. She wonders how life would have gone on, had the Phantomhives not met such an untimely end. Her hand goes to her stomach unconsciously as she thinks of the unborn child that never saw the light of day. She thinks of the little girl who looks so much like her father, just crying for her aunt when she found out about the accident.

Thinks about how much she hesitates to hate the color red so much, when she looks at herself in the mirror and sees her brightly-colored hair. It reminds her of the fire she witnessed on the night that everything went wrong…but it also reminds her of the hair that the little girl had. Of course, hers wasn’t as brightly colored, being a darker shade of red, but…

But…

But…it was still _red_. Red, the color that she usually wore—the color of the hair that she used to hate so much. It’s the color of the lipstick she wears before leaving for work. It’s the color that she swears she sees when she hears the comments that prostitute makes about the unwanted pregnancy that she wants to terminate.

Anger bubbles within her, festering into such an ugly emotion that continues to grow as she thinks about the misfortune that has befallen her. She watches as the water in the sink turns red from the blood she washes from her hands. Just as she thinks she can’t take any more, a nurse walks in to pass on a message.

Immediately, her anger ebbs away as she rushes down the hallway, looking for the room that her visitors are in. She opens the door, tears welling up in her eyes when she catches sight of the nephew and niece who have been missing for more than a month. Standing next to them, is a peculiar butler dressed in black, but Angelina pays him no mind as she throws her arms around her niece and nephew.

She cares not for how filthy they are, instead growing more concerned over how thin the two have become. “Ahhh, you’re so thin…!”

She holds them closely against her chest, still so happy and relieved that this is real—that this isn’t a dream. Her nephew doesn’t say anything to her, remaining quiet and still as she tells him just how happy she is to see him again.

“You too, Roselle…!” Angelina turns her attention to her niece. A warm smile forms on her lips as she gently caresses her cheek. “I’m just happy to see that the two of you are safe…”

For the time being, she ignores the voice in her head that asks about the missing Phantomhive twin.

_“One thing at a time,”_ she thinks to herself. _“One thing…at a time…”_

At first, Roselle doesn’t react to Angelina’s touch, but as the seconds go by, the vacant look in her eyes starts to fade as she becomes aware of the person in front of her. She still wants to scream so badly, but at the same time…

At the same time… “A-Aunt Ann…”

She wants to cry.

“Aunt Ann…” she starts sobbing, unable to maintain her composure as her head is flooded with so many conflicting thoughts. She recognizes the woman before her—as both a fictional character that she saw die…and as a person she’s known her entire life. There are so many memories she has of this woman from this life.

_So, so many…_

It makes the knowledge that she is going to die all the harder for her to deal with as she sobs into the woman’s chest. “D-Don’t leave me!!”

Something inside Angelina breaks, overwhelming her with a strong desire to protect the child that begs for her to not leave. She’s not certain when her nephew had distanced himself, but it’s the last thing she has on her mind as she embraces her niece. She whispers words of comfort into Roselle’s ear, blissfully unaware of the gloomy expression her nephew has on his face as he watches the scene before him.

…

…

Roselle wonders if she’s made the right decision to stay behind. She doesn’t see any other reason why she should follow after her brother and that demon as they board the carriage that Angelina has prepared for them.

_I’d only be in the way…_

She bites her lip, trying to ignore the guilt she feels for leaving Ciel alone. There’s a part of her that wants to run after the carriage once it departs. She considers it…but then pushes all those thoughts aside when Angelina gives her hand a reassuring squeeze.

_It’s…fine._

Everything should be fine…it’s not the last time she’ll see Ciel. She’ll try her best to visit him when she can.

_For now…_

She just wants to stay by Angelina’s side. Wants to make sure she doesn’t die…

_Even though it’s probably too late…_

The thought crosses her mind, though she barely pays it any mind. Because even if it’s just for a little while, Roselle wants to pretend that everything is okay.

_That nothing actually hurts._

…

…

The first thing that Angelina does is give her niece a bath. She does it herself, telling her servants to just focus on other household chores. This is between her and Roselle… Because Angelina knows—she knows that underneath all that dirt and grime, there are things that Roselle doesn’t want to talk about…

She talks about trivial things—about how her life has been, choosing to change the subject instead of bringing attention to the bruises that cover Roselle’s skin. She forces a smile in an attempt to ignore how she can count her niece’s ribs. She tries so hard to lighten the mood…

But there’s only so much she can do when she sees the brand that’s been burned into Roselle’s flesh.

“Is…everything fine?” Roselle asks, wondering why her aunt had gotten so quiet. She receives no response, and instead, is pulled into a tight embrace.

“Never again…” she hears Angelina say. “Never again, never again, never again…!”

She chokes back a sob when she realizes that the same must have happened to Ciel. And when she thinks about the twin that was missing from their reunion, she can’t help but cry.

“It’s okay,” Roselle tells her, even though they both know that it isn’t. “It’s…okay.”

…

…

Roselle spends a considerable amount of time staring at her reflection when she finally gets the chance. The first thing she notices is her hair, which had been cut short out of necessity to get rid of the tangles and knots that couldn’t be brushed out. It’s such a dark shade of red, almost appearing black under certain angles of light… It reminds her of the wigs that she would buy for her cosplays, instead of the dark, brown hair that she used to have.

The next thing she notices is her eyes, which are a dark shade of blue instead of a warm, chocolate brown. They are sharp and narrow, instead of big and round, with eyelashes that are thick and long. A small mole dots the area underneath her left eye, which stands out significantly on her pale skin.

_This is me…_

This is Roselle Phantomhive.

_That’s who I am._

It’s a lot to take in, which is why Roselle takes her time getting acquainted with her new looks. The sooner she does this, the better…

…

…

The days go by at such a slow pace. For the most part, Roselle spends them with Angelina, who takes time off of work to help her niece recover. She adjusts to the dresses that her aunt makes her wear. It certainly helps that Angelina has an eye for fashion, although…that still doesn’t stop Roselle from wanting to wear pants.

One of the downsides of being shoved into the Victorian era is the lack of options available to her, due to something as ridiculous as gender restricting what is and what isn’t appropriate for her to wear. The other downside is gendered etiquette, which can go fuck itself. There’s a lot more grievances that she has, but Roselle bears with it as she stares at the happy smile on her aunt’s face.

And then Lady Francis Midford appears with her daughter, Elizabeth, and her son, Edward.

Roselle forces a smile as Francis chastises Angelina for being so lenient on her, despite the fact that it’s only been like a week or so since she left that fucking hell hole that she refuses to think about too much.

_Don’t think about it, don’t think about it._

Her smile almost wavers when she thinks about the brother that she and Ciel left behind.

_That’s it._

Roselle decides to peace out and goes to her room, where she surrounds herself in the stuffed animals that Elizabeth had shared with her, in hopes of making her feel better. They do their job of being cute and also providing Roselle with means of distracting herself. If she plays her cards right, then she can wait out Francis’s visit…

“There you are!” Too bad Edward finds her underneath the bed.

“Leave me alone.” Roselle is not in any mood to interact with relatives that she does know personally, but only through memories. It’s weird…

“Mother says it isn’t ladylike to hide in such places,” Edward tells her as he crawls underneath the bed.

“Well…it isn’t gentlemanly for you to do the same!” Two can play at that game if Roselle has anything to say about that.

Edward only laughs, finding his cousin’s response quite humorous. It almost makes him forget that it’s been more than a month since he last saw his cousin, after thinking she was dead this entire time.

…

…

“Roselle…?” Edward reaches out and lightly tugs on her skirt.

“Hmm?” Roselle resists the urge she has to swat away his hand.

“I missed you…” Edward says in such a soft voice, sounding as though he is on the verge of tears.

Roselle doesn’t know what to make with the surge of emotions that courses through her at this very moment. It happens all too suddenly before she has a chance to really think about it. It’s why she doesn’t think twice when she says, “I missed you too…”

Edward averts his gaze as his face heats up with a blush. “Um. I’m not supposed to touch you, but…can I hug you?”

“No…” Just the thought of being touched makes her skin crawl. It’s not anything that Roselle can get over so quickly, but that doesn’t stop her from extending a hand towards Edward and telling him, “But you can hold my hand.”

Edward nods his head and reaches out to grab Roselle’s hand. He makes sure to be as gentle as possible, trying his best make sure that she is completely comfortable with his touch. A smile forms on his lips when Roselle doesn’t pull away.

_Ba-dump! Ba-dump!_

When Edward had heard that Roselle was alive and well, he had been hoping that everything could go back to the way things used to be. Back to the days when they would play in the garden, without ever so much of a care to what trouble they could get into…

He knows better than to think such childish thoughts. After all, they’re getting older, and soon, they’ll become adults…

…

…

But still…

That doesn’t stop him from enjoying the quiet moment he has with Roselle, where he feels he can forget about such troublesome things as growing up. Yes…he can certainly forget about that…

Even if it is just for a single moment…

…

…

“You’ve cut her hair…haven’t you?” Francis stares at Angelina as she sets down her cup of tea.

Angelina forces a smile, knowing fully well how displeased Francis is. “It was necessary.”

“It’s so…short.” Francis purses her lips. “Like a boy’s…”

“I know.” Angelina brings her teacup to her mouth. She closes her eyes as she takes a small sip, trying her best to focus on the taste instead of the memories she has of cutting Roselle’s long hair.

“Like Vincent’s…” Francis’s words snap Angelina out of her thoughts.

“I know…” Angelina frowns, knowing fully well of whom Roselle had taken after the most.

“Have you visited Ciel?” Francis tries to change the subject.

“No…not yet.” Angelina wants to wait a few more days before taking her niece to go visit her younger brother. “The mansion’s been rebuilt.”

“So I’ve heard.” Francis lifts her cup of tea. “I’ve also noticed that Roselle isn’t wearing a corset.”

“Francis, have some sympathy…” Angelina refuses to let her niece wear such a thing for the time being. “She shouldn’t be wearing a corset while she is like this.”

“I suppose you are right.” A doctor should know what is best, after all… “I apologize—some habits are hard to break.”

“It’s fine.” Even though sometimes, Angelina wishes Francis wasn’t such a stick in the mud.

When it is time for the Midfords to leave, Angelina finds Roselle trying her best to force a smile as she endures the overtly feminine accessories that Elizabeth has affixed to her person.

“Make sure you let your hair grow out—girls should have long hair, after all!” Elizabeth tells her. “It makes you much cuter!”

Roselle laughs weakly, staying still as Elizabeth adjusts the flower pinned to her short hair.

“I think that’s enough, Lizzy!” Edward gently urges his younger sister to leave Roselle alone. “I’m certain she’s had enough excitement for one day.”

“I guess you’re right.” Though, that doesn’t stop Elizabeth from pouting so cutely. If she had any complaints, it would be that her cute, older cousin had suddenly gotten so boyish.

Angelina pats Roselle’s hair, not at all surprised when her niece’s hand suddenly wraps around hers. “Say goodbye to your cousins, Roselle.”

“G-Goodbye…” she murmurs, her gaze shifting downwards.

“Then we shall be taking our leave.” Francis says her goodbyes, soon leaving Angelina’s home, with Edward and Elizabeth following after her.

…

“You can cry if you want to…” Angelina can tell how overwhelmed her niece has gotten from the sudden visit.

“Dun wanna…” Roselle sniffs, unable to stop the tears that slip out.

Angelina laughs softly, her fingers gently running through Roselle’s short hair. “Everything is going to be fine…I’m here.”

…

…

Sometimes, Angelina wakes up in the middle of the night to loud screams coming from Roselle’s room. She lights a candle and immediately rushes to the room, trying her best to calm her niece as she repeatedly demands to not be touched.

“It’s just a nightmare,” Angelina reassures her, despite having an idea of what could have happened in the month that her niece and nephew had gone missing. “It’s just…a nightmare…”

She knows it’s not a nightmare…but she’d prefer to treat it like one. It makes it all the easier to cope with as she whispers soothing words of comfort to the scared, little girl that cries into her chest. She sings a lullaby that she often sang to her unborn child, back when her stomach was round, and her husband was still alive…

A part of her likes to imagine that Roselle is actually her child…that she and Vincent had gotten married. It’s such a selfish thing to do, but it helps her get through the night, when Roselle can’t go back to sleep. And even if she hadn’t given birth to Roselle, that doesn’t stop Angelina from thinking of her as her own child.

…

…

On a particularly sunny day, Ciel finds himself being paid a surprise visit by Angelina and Roselle. The first thing he notices immediately is how short Roselle’s hair had gotten. He is careful when he walks up to her to greet her, noticing that besides her hair, she hasn’t really changed much. She hasn’t grown any taller, nor has she gained that much weight back—not yet at least.

He is the same, he thinks, as he leans into his sister’s touch when her arms wrap around him.

“I missed you,” Roselle tells him in such a soft tone.

“I missed you too,” Ciel admits, unable to hide his own emotions, even under the watchful gaze of Sebastian, who continues to wear that same, fake smile on his face.

Angelina distracts Sebastian with questions regarding her nephew’s wellbeing. Sebastian answers them as best as he can as he watches, from out of the corner of his eye, Roselle drag Ciel away to his room. He decides to check up on them later, once Angelina had stopped pestering him with such questions.

…

Roselle catches Ciel by surprise when she asks if she can borrow his clothes.

“Wh-What?” Ciel stares at his sister, who plops down on his bed in such an unladylike manner.

“I’m tired of wearing dresses!” Roselle proclaims as she turns onto her stomach. “Let me wear some of your clothes…”

“Are you…are you sure that they’ll fit?” It’s a strange request, but Ciel doesn’t see any reason why he should deny it.

“Shoot…I forgot to think about that.” Roselle pouts as she looks at herself. She isn’t that much taller than Ciel to begin with, though she is aware of how most of his clothes are tailored to his measurements and not hers… “Well…it shouldn’t hurt to try them on, at least!”

Ciel blinks a few times, a smile soon forming on his lips. It surprises him with how easily he can smile, but he supposes that his sister has always had that effect on him.

…

Angelina nearly spits out her tea when Ciel and Roselle arrive to join her for tea. “What happened to the dress you were wearing?!”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Aunt Ann—I just wanted to try something new,” Roselle responds with a wide smile on her face. “I’ll put the dress back on, but for now…can I wear this?”

There are a lot of things that Angelina wants to say—many of them involving how improper it is for a young girl to wear a boy’s clothes. She opens her mouth to say something, but she stops herself, having noticed the happy expression on her niece’s face. She has such a wide smile on her face as she thanks her younger brother for letting her borrow his clothes. She stands still when Sebastian walks over to adjust her clothing somewhat, lightly chastising her for not asking for help.

“I’m not a child,” she wants to say, but she doesn’t. Instead, she just flicks Sebastian on the nose and walks away from him as soon as he is done fixing her clothes.

“Roselle!” Angelina lightly scolds her niece. “At the very least, you should be thanking him for his help…now apologize.”

“Sorry Sebastian…” Roselle tries her best to sound as genuine as she can, even though she’d rather not apologize to Sebastian at all. She can tell that he is annoyed with her, though he hides it behind that fake smile of his. She knows that it isn’t that smart of an idea to mess with someone like Sebastian…but that still doesn’t stop her from being just as critical of him as her brother whenever he messes up.

_So much for being one hell of a butler…_

He has a long ways to go, according to what Angelina tells her in hushed whispers, though that doesn’t stop her from enjoying his handsome looks.

“Ugh…” Roselle doesn’t know exactly what happened to make her so apprehensive of Sebastian, beyond just knowing who he actually is. She feels it has more to do with his appearance, which makes her want to puke whenever she thinks she finds him handsome.

_How unfortunate._

Roselle tries her best to distract herself as she drinks down her tea. She scowls when Sebastian appears out of the corner of her eye to refill her cup. This is certainly something that she’ll have to get used to…

_How **really** unfortunate._

Thankfully, Roselle doesn’t have to put up with that demon butler for too long. As soon as Angelina has received sufficient information that her nephew is doing well on his own, she decides to take her leave, calling Roselle to come along. Roselle hugs her brother goodbye and follows her aunt into the carriage.

“Did you enjoy your visit?” Angelina asks her with a smile on her face.

“Yeah…I did.” Roselle smiles back, feeling especially content with today’s events. As difficult as it is for her to adjust to her new life, there are some things that just make it all the easier for her to adapt. She supposes that being an older sister has its perks, as strange as it is to no longer be the youngest sibling in the family.

That night, she finds herself drifting off into a peaceful sleep without any issues.

…

It’s sometime after midnight when Angelina gets out of bed to go check on her niece. Though the night has been especially quiet, there is something that just urges her to go anyways. She walks down the hallway, trying her best to make as little noise as possible. She stops in her tracks when she hears a faint sound.

She almost doesn’t hear it…

She almost doesn’t hear the sound of a body falling lifelessly to the floor. Her profession as a doctor has given her much experience with situations that most people wouldn’t normally have. Sometimes, accidents happen…sometimes, those accidents happen at the hospital.

This…

This isn’t an accident.

_“What in the hell…?”_ Angelina covers her mouth to keep herself quiet when she catches a shadowy figure lingering around a dead body. Never before has she ever felt so grateful for forgetting to take a candle with her. This way, she can move around without being spotted.

She almost sneaks away to go find help…almost leaves, when she notices the shadowy figure moving closer and closer to the room where Roselle sleeps.

_“No—anything but that.”_ Angelina doesn’t know what to do with herself at that very moment. It feels as though she’s been doused with a bucket of cold water. She can’t move—can’t bring herself to do anything as she watches the shadowy figure stand in front of the door.

_Th-Thump, th-thump!_

_Th-Thump, th-thump!_

She thinks of the day that Roselle was born, how she held that little red-haired baby in her arms. She remembers thinking such selfish thoughts—thoughts of her and Vincent Phantomhive. Roselle looks so much like Vincent, with red hair that is more similar to Angelina’s instead of Rachel’s…

It was easy for Angelina to fantasize that she had given birth to Vincent’s child, instead of Rachel… That instead of Rachel, she had married that man…

After all, Roselle had always preferred her company over that of her parents… No matter what Angelina was doing, Roselle was never too far from her side. She was there on the day of her wedding to a different man, saying how happy she was for her. She was also there, when her stomach was round and heavy with a child.

When Angelina had lost everything and was left bedridden at the hospital, it was Roselle who visited her as often as she could. Angelina doesn’t know what she would have done with her life, had Roselle not been there for her. She owes so much to Roselle.

So very, **very** much…

And for someone to try and take that all away from her…

_“Unforgiveable…”_ It’s completely unforgiveable.

Angelina doesn’t hesitate to go back to her room, to grab a scalpel from her medical bag. She holds it tightly in her hands as she makes her way back into the hallway. She hears the door start to open, so she runs, not caring if she’s spotted as she rams the blade into the shadowy figure’s gut. She twists and turns, her hand covering the figure’s mouth so as to muffle their cries.

She wants it to hurt as much as possible—for even trying to bring harm to the person who always gave her hope. She might have not been the person who gave birth to Roselle… Might have not been the person who carried her for nine months…

She might not have done anything like that—but that doesn’t stop her from considering Roselle her child. And any child of hers is someone that she’ll protect at all costs.

Something snaps in her that night, as she continues to mutilate the body that now lays on the floor. She does it long after the body has turned cold, still so very angry that someone would even consider doing something so heinous to that child…

She never notices that she is being watched through her window. Never notices the chartreuse, phosphorescent eyes that glimmer behind a pair of red-framed glasses.

…

…

Angelina cuts her hair short after that, ridding herself of those long locks of hair that had grown sticky with blood. She smiles at her reflection, thinking that now she and Roselle can match.

She takes Roselle to get fitted for an outfit of her choice, letting her tell the tailor, Nina Hopkins, what it is that she wants to wear. Nina is more than willing to take on the task, happy to serve a young lady that is willing to cast aside societal norms in the name of fashion. She goes beyond what she is asked for, while ensuring that Roselle receives the outfit of her choice.

Later on, Roselle goes to embrace her brother when he shows up at Angelina’s place, having heard the news about the break-in. She reassures him that everything is okay, asking if he likes her new clothes as means of changing the subject.

“You look very boyish,” Sebastian says, with that same, fake smile on his face. “Very unladylike.”

“Thanks—I wasn’t asking you.” Roselle forces a smile that is just as fake as his.

The two are at odds with each other, for reasons that Ciel can’t exactly fathom. Regardless, he takes his sister’s side, telling Sebastian to behave.

“You look nice,” he then tells Roselle, whose fake smile turns into a genuine one.

“Thank you!” she says, taking a moment to adjust her bowtie. She’s never been the type to wear such formal clothing, but since she didn’t have many options…she decided to make the most of it by at least having a say in what it is she wears.

Angelina stands at the side, watching the reunion between the siblings with a smile on her face. She has a favor to ask of Ciel as soon as he has finished talking to Roselle. A favor that she will not allow him to refuse…

“Would it be possible if the two of us were to move in with you?” she asks the instant she can.

Ciel’s uncovered eye widens. “Wh-What…?”

“Wouldn’t it be for the best?” Angelina has noticed just how much Ciel has missed having his older sister around, as hard as he’s been trying to hide his emotions from everyone. “How else am I supposed to protect you two?”

Ciel doesn’t know what to make of his aunt’s request. From the looks of it, he doesn’t have any reason why he should refuse her. He looks over his shoulder at Roselle, who seems to be having a small spat with Sebastian. Sebastian keeps his composure as usual, though Ciel can tell that Roselle has him cornered in some way…

It’s amuses him greatly.

…

“I think we can certainly make some arrangements.” Ciel knows better than to think that things could go back to the way they used to be. There’s nothing that can be done about the events that have long since occurred…

Nothing that can be done to bring back what has already been lost.

And yet…

And yet…

And yet…

That doesn’t stop Ciel from actually feeling happy.

_“How funny…”_ he thinks, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If y’all wanna know how far down the rabbit hole I am, I started writing this chapter as soon I got chapter one out. I’m pretty happy with how this chapter turned out, going from ANGST to fluff, to more ANGST, and just…
> 
> Ahhh, I’m just happy to get another chapter out. Anyways, it should be mentioned that Roselle takes after Vincent Phantomhive the most in terms of physical appearance, though she inherited her red hair from Rachel’s side of the family.
> 
> Initially, her hair was a darker color, like Vincent’s…but the fact that her name was Roselle kinda changed that after **ChibiFoxAI** brought it up in my discord server, and the rest of my friends fucking enabled me, so that’s how Roselle ended up with dark, red hair.
> 
> It ended up playing an even bigger part in the scenario with our fair lady, Madame Red. What started out as selfish intentions, developed into something much more than that. Despite the fact that Roselle had started out without her memories of her past life, she has still left her mark on those around her.
> 
> It’s what kept Madame Red from returning to work so soon after the fire. And it’s what certainly has been keeping her from the path of becoming Jack the Ripper…so that’s something worth considering about the changes that have been occurring.
> 
> Anyways, the outfit of Roselle’s choice is similar to the one that Hans Christian Andersen wears in _Fate/Extra CCC_ and _Fate/Grand Order_ , differing only in color as the one Roselle wears is of a burgundy color instead of blue. The reason I mention this is so I could get it off my chest, because one of my comments regarding this fic, back when I was in the process of writing it, was that I was going to shove the Andersen aesthetic on Roselle and by god, am I following through with it.
> 
> Anyways, I got an exam today that I need to study for, so…wish me luck! Do feel free to leave a comment, because I crave that validation and it is what’s been keeping me motivated these past few days. While I haven’t been responding, just know that I have been reading every comentI have received so far. So to those who have been commenting…thank you so very much!
> 
> I’ll try to write a reply eventually, but until then, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Until next time, everyone!


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